The men would execute their iniquitous designs of burglary, would secure the money they coveted and then would fly to some remote spot, leaving him behind, and destroying all trace of their whereabouts and all clue to the Dean Mercer mystery. He had gained nothing by his last bold venture, Marcus disappointedly confessed. He might get into very serious trouble. Violence might be necessary. They might all be arrested. “I’ll warn the house at the last moment!” decided Marcus grimly. “I must go on with these men now. They’d kill me if I showed treachery, or tried to run away.” So he trudged along with them. “Here, boy! carry my coat!” ordered Daley finally. He tossed Marcus his light overcoat as he spoke. As he did so, a memorandum book and several letters fell on the ground. Marcus recovered and replaced them in the pocket of the coat. “See here, Daley,” said Spofford. “Well?” “When we get through here, what’s the programme?” “New York--Europe.” “That is, if we get a heap of money?” “Yes.” “And if not?” “Springfield again.” “Why not Downey?” “Tim?” “Yes.” “I never thought of that!” Marcus listened intently. “There’s money in it, Tim says,” continued Spofford. “Yes, his letter to me says so.” “Do you believe him?” “Yes; he paid us well for the Robert Rawley affair. We’ll see. We might go to him. We’re near the place. Yonder it is. That fine mansion among the trees. Post the boy and scare him, Spofford.” Spofford began to talk to Marcus. He showed him a pistol--told him that he would be made independently rich if he obeyed them, killed if he attempted treachery or flight. They scaled a fence and approached a house. It was enveloped in darkness, as if its inmates were asleep. “There’s the small window in the pantry,” said Daley. “The boy is to creep through it and unlock the door beyond.” “In with you, and be cautious,” ordered Spofford. Marcus was compelled to obey. He placed the satchel and the coat on the ground, and was hoisted through the window. Daley held a dark-lantern after him, so that its rays kept him in sight. Marcus’ plan was to open not the door leading to the outside, but one that led into the living portion of the house, and dashing through it and out of sight of his companions, alarm the people. In this he was baffled, however, for as he touched the knob of the inside door he found that it was locked on the other side, and at the same moment Daley at the other window called out gruffly: “Here! not that door--this one!” Marcus unlocked the outside door. “You’re a good one!” murmured Daley. “Now go outside under the window and keep watch, and warn us if anyone comes.” “All right!” replied Marcus relievedly. “You, Spofford, turn the key in the inner door. Stay here, and I’ll go in quest of the cash.” Marcus Ellison, the minute he was outside and out of sight of the two men, did not delay a moment. He seized the satchel and overcoat and dashed as fast as he could run for the nearest house.